


Red

by geckosandstarks



Series: Bellarke drabbles [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Light Smut, it's still smutty, just lightly, raven/lexa is super background, this ship will be the death of me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 21:24:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3264839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckosandstarks/pseuds/geckosandstarks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short drabble about bellarke and red.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red

 

Clarke’s world was a swirl of red.

It seemed to be the only constant in an ever-changing life, whether it be the strange, wilting flowers that bloomed in the spring outside Camp Jaha, or the beckoning of blood that stained her pale hands evermore. It never washed away, either, no matter how hard she’d scrub and scrub and scrub, she remained dirtied by the mouth of war.

Sometime after the defeat of Mount Weather, she’d met a girl with red eyes. If she didn’t stare, spoke to her without truly seeing, she could pretend that she was fine, and that her eyes didn’t unnerve her, an innocent conversation.

When she looked back, she could see the red, and taste in the back of her throat the hot, thick blood as it began trickling into her stomach, and she could look no more.

She began to see red differently, however, the first time Bellamy had kissed her.

It was, as with everything on the ground, without patience, or structure. They’d been arguing, she knew, when suddenly there was only _him,_ crowding her body with rough hands that felt _clean,_ and with heat on his lips that _burned._

And he’d pulled away, stuttering out an apology with lips bruised red, and she’d wasted no time in pulling him back to her, swallowing the words and claiming the red of his lips.

Things had moved quickly between them, and neither of them regretted a second of it. They’d barley made it back to his tent, before they were tearing away offending clothes and delving into the secrets of each other’s bodies. And as Bellamy had settled between her legs and made her scream his name into the night, filling the empty sky with memories that blistered the mundane existence around them, Clarke had clutched to the red, pulling his head from between her legs so she could revel in the taste of him, and of herself on his lips.

As he had pushed into her, framing her face always to confirm her certainty in the situation, she’d ran her fingernails along his back, biting into the skin as the pleasure mingled with pain, and reaching down to connect their lips once again as delighted desire had consumed her body, hands fisted in unruly curls.

There had been blood under her fingernails, just a little, and at the sight it now seemingly _seductive,_ she had been unable to keep the smile off her face.

The next day, Bellamy had smirked at the stumble in her step, hands confident and fingers bold as he whispered unto her body gentle caresses and promises that bit into the coldest regions of her heart labelled _logic._

He’d stopped smiling, however, as a member one of the visiting tribes (friendlies) had attempted to seduce Clarke, biting on her bottom lip and keeping physical contact at all times, whether it be holding her shoulder, or brushing away non-existent specks of dirt.

Clarke had smiled at the woman, but otherwise hadn’t reciprocated her actions, though still enjoying the way Bellamy’s features had darkened considerably, a furious blush leading an enticing path down his thin shirt.

Unable to resist herself, she’d leaned over to whisper something in the woman’s ear, (Lexa, she’d said her name was) which had been along the lines of: ‘You’re awesome, but I have something of a boyfriend watching, and he’s getting jealous and it’s really funny so could you help? Also, there’s a mechanic here I _have_ to introduce you to.’ Lexa had looked slightly disappointed, though the smirk that toyed with her lips had shown her willingness to help.

After Clarke had introduced Lexa to Raven, she’d been gladly pulled into the alluring darkness of Bellamy’s tent, whereas she’d ended up straddling him as he sat, sucking a hickey onto her neck.

She would’ve complained, had it not felt _so fucking good._

The next day, Bellamy had hugged Clarkes body to him, his hands a possessive grip on her hips, to which she’d rolled her eyes and shoved him off, intending to find Lexa to say goodbye before she left.

Bellamy had tugged her back gently, leaning down to whisper the words that left her grinning until her lips seemed to ache.

_“You look good in red.”_


End file.
